


like father, like daughter

by emersen_rose



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Guilt, Survival, The walking dead game - Freeform, carvers daughter, the walking dead - Freeform, will try to be canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emersen_rose/pseuds/emersen_rose
Summary: After a poorly planned-out rescue, Sydney Carver must deal with the consequences of rescuing a small group of survivors outside of her father's sanctuary.





	1. prologue

Her father was a good man before this all started. A headstrong engineer, a womanizer with charm-his face known as the most handsome one in town. He kept himself well-groomed and had a tattoo of his only daughter’s name, Sydney Kate, on his left wrist. Despite his age, his hair was dark with no grey. People around town loved Bill Carver. They’d give him discounts at the local grocery store, and they’d make sure that his firstborn got the best possible teachers in the high school she attended. Sydney received a constant stream of nepotism from people that she wasn’t even related to, because anyone good with Carver was good for them. On the weekends, the small family would go hunting in the expansive woods nearby, catching deer and rabbits which they would make fur garments with. Syd looks fondly at these days, savoring how carefree and happy they were. But times have changed, and so has her father. 

And so has she. 

On the day the world began it’s end, it started out normal. Carver left work early that morning, but took the time to make Syd’s bagged lunch beforehand, making sure everything in the heavy tin box was evenly compartmentalized and full. There was a spork inside, which he put in out of spite because Syd complained about how babyish it made her look the week before, and that _no one_ over ten still carried around a fork. Even though Syd wasn’t that much older, at a wee fourteen, she tried her best to act like she was four years older and a senior. Carver thought about how quickly his little girl grew up as he latched the box shut, leaving it in the refrigerator for her to pick up later. Then, he left for work, taking his pickup truck with him.

Syd slept through her alarm again, and her eyes cracked open ten minutes before her bus came. She sprung out of bed, ran her fingers through her dark brown hair, and put an oversized denim shirt that was probably her dad’s on over the white tee shirt she slept in the night before. Syd picked up a pair of black leggings and gave it a cursory sniff before deeming it clean enough to wear, as she chewed the toothbrush in her mouth in an attempt to brush her teeth. She used her only free hand to lather on deodorant. With a quick glance in the mirror that was futile because she didn’t have time to change anything, she slung her red JanSport over one shoulder and ran out the front door, grabbing her lunch box from the fridge on her way. Briskly walking to the corner she usually got picked up from on the bus, she saw the tail end of the yellow truck pulling away. Syd sighed dejectedly, closing her eyes as she weighed her new options. She could either be ten minutes late to school and get the stinkeye from Mrs. Davis, or she could stay home and get a lecture from her father. The more favorable option was obvious, and the skinny, young girl began her long walk to Franklin High School. 

As she was walking, she unconsciously put her hair in a half-up ponytail, sighing as the really short pieces fell out of her hands. Whatever hair she did get in the ponytail surely looked horrendous, but she didn’t have a mirror _or_ the time to do anything about it. Hitching her backpack over her shoulders, she continued her walk, stepping around roadkill along the paved street and kicking pieces of litter off her feet here and there. 

The faint smell of smoke filled her nostrils, and she assumed that the Johnsons were having a barbecue again. They had a son who was Syd’s age, named Oscar. His family would constantly egg them on to get together, but everyone knew that Carver wouldn’t let just _any boy_ touch his daughter. Yet the Johnsons persisted. Syd thought, since they hadn’t invited them to this particular barbecue, that they’d given up on their matchmaking quest.

That was when she saw the figure in front of her, walking ridiculously slow. Puffing out an irritated breath and tensing her shoulders, she briskly walked around the limping man. Syd didn’t like interacting with strangers on her walks, especially since there weren’t many strangers in their small Tennessee town. She was about to continue on her merry way, perhaps walk even faster than she did before, but whoever was behind her began groaning inhumanly. 

“Excuse me?” Syd asked, shoulders hitched up to her ears because of her violated personal space. She whirled around violently, so this figure wouldn’t have the jump on her. But then, she saw exactly why this person was croaking like mad. 

It grabbed her arm in earnest, and yanked it towards it’s gnarled mouth. In a panic, she swung the lunchbox in her other hand onto the side of the creature’s head, watching in horror as it recoiled. The iron grip on her arm remained strong, and with a scream, she kicked it’s legs down. It took her down with her, and it landed on top of her small frame. In that moment, she smelled the coppery scent on it’s breath, and looked into clouded irises blinded by hunger. A good chunk of the man’s cheek was missing, and the letterman jacket he was wearing was covered with blood. She winced as the open wound oozed onto her cheek, but when the creature began writhing again, she was brought back to reality.

Syd let out another shrill squeak, and in a futile effort to find something she could defend herself with, she scratched the side of the road enough to cut her hand. With a start, she realized she’d actually scraped against the knife-edged side of her metal spork, and with all of her strength, she stabbed the man in the side of his neck, where she knew there was an artery, but no blood poured out. Only a dark substance that reeked of rancor left his body unwillingly, as if there wasn’t a heart circulating blood at all through it’s body. 

Desperate, she rolled her attacker over, plunging the utensil down it’s eye socket with a guttural roar. To her horror, it still was writhing underneath her, and she yanked out the spork and stabbed it in the eye once again, hoping to God it would work that time. It’s movements weakened, but continued. With one final swing into it’s skull, Syd felt it’s movement cease, and the croaks the thing was making stopped. 

For a moment, Syd stared at the corpse beneath her, wondering what the hell just happened. The spork in her hand was slippery with whatever fluid came out of that thing, and her white tee shirt was stained with gunk. She took one breath through her nose, and smelled decay. She rolled off of the creature coughing, sputtering, trying to gain her senses back.

Through her teary eyes, she saw two slow figures coming up the road towards her, and she saw a smoking bus in the distance. _Her_ bus. The people crawling out of it were acting like the man she just slaughtered, and in horror, she recognized the letterman jacket he was wearing as her own school colors. She breathed deeply again, through her mouth, and the noise seemed to turn a few heads. Syd’s eyes met even more white ones, and her heart began to palpitate in panic. She could barely move, but these creatures were getting too close, and she was running out of time. She unzipped her backpack at the speed of light, dumping out every content until she deemed it light enough to comfortably carry. Next, Syd scrambled over to the dead body next to her, trying to get the spork out of it’s eye so she’d have some defense. The gunk make it too slick for her to get a grip on, and the loud moans of her former classmates reminded her that she didn’t have much time. 

So without looking back, Syd ran. And once she saw her dad’s truck in the driveway and thought about how he never missed work, she knew that they were in some serious trouble. She banged on the front door in a panic, and was startled to see her father open the door with the barrel of a gun in her face. His expression was unreadable, but the frown etched in his features and the slight tilt in his eyebrows made her know that he was serious about pulling the trigger. 

“D-dad?” She whispered, and whatever hostile mode her dad was in was replaced with an expression full of shock. 

“Get inside,” her father said, his face betraying his cool words. Syd obliged. Her heart was racing faster than ever now, from the fact that she _killed_ someone, and from the fact that she was almost killed three times already that day. Carver looked at her up and down in the scrutinizing way that he always did, but his eyes showed a bit of concern. She looked down to see what he was looking at, only to see that she was indeed worse for wear. Her hair was falling into her eyes, clumped together by something smelly and brown, and her tee shirt was speckled in black and red liquid. Her hands were crusted with blood, and there were tiny cuts on her palms from when she fell to the ground. 

She could only imagine what her face looked like now, her pale skin covered with dirt and blood, blue eyes wild with fear. It must’ve been odd for her dad to see her like this, not just disheveled, because that was normal, but terrified.

“We need to get packing, Sydney-Kate.” Carver said, and despite the fact that the world seemed to be falling apart around them, she flinched at his use of her full name. Not once, in her entire life, had her father called her by her full name, not even when she did something bad.

_Oh God,_ she thought in a panic. _I can’t move. This is bad. This is bad!_ Her vision got blurred from panic or tears or both, and she felt her body tremor. Whatever her father said to her at that moment was lost in a haze, but all of a sudden he was in her face, and all of a sudden, a sharp smack on her cheek brought her back. She hit the ground again, and yet again, it made her aware of their situation. 

“FUCKING FOCUS, GIRL! I AM NOT STANDING AROUND HERE WAITING TO GET KILLED!” Carver roared, shaking out his right hand. Syd quickly stood up, wide-eyed. Her dad had never hit her before. He only calmly lectured her from time to time. 

Yet it appeared that this method was effective, because there she stood, at attention, waiting for instructions on what to pack. Her hands were still shaking, her shoulders were still tight. The crusted blood underneath her fingernails resembled the black tar the Carvers repaved their driveway with the year before. Syd wanted to be loyal to her father, to make sure that they would both make it through this… _thing,_ or whatever the hell it was. 

“Clothes. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Water bottle. Weapons. As much food as you can fit in your bag while still being able to run. And for Christ’s sake, never wear white again.” Carver ordered. And that was what Syd retrieved. 

First, she ran to her bedroom and kicked her tennis shoes off. She took the slick white tee shirt off her body, replacing it with a black one that would stain less easily. Then, she slipped on her denim shirt again. Her leggings were crusted onto her body, and she hissed as she took them off replacing the thin and stretchy material with a pair of somewhat baggy jeans that still stayed close to her skin. She emptied the contents of her bag, and on the very bottom, she put her favorite Guns N’ Roses tee shirt and a long underwear set she would take along with her for winter hunting trips. She grabbed a pair of clean jeans and folded them as small as she could, before reaching under her bed for her MP3 player and headphones. Her father would give her hell if he saw it, saying it was a waste of space and whatnot, so she tucked it in behind her tampons in the front pocket of her bag. She clenched her jaw as she heard a car crash outside, followed by a scream. Syd would have to hurry. If she was right, noise was what drew these things towards them.

She could hear clattering downstairs as her father raided cabinets for sustainable food. They didn’t speak to each other at all, Syd was very bitter at the fact that he hit her, and he was angry that his daughter wasn’t as much of a son as he thought. Quickly, but carefully, she grabbed a holster from their household armory, cinching it tight arrow her waist. Then, she stuck the most full pistol she could find inside, making sure the safety and silencer were on. Then, she snatched up a hunting knife and put it in the other pocket of her belt. She found the boxes of ammo for that particular gun and put as much of it as she could in one box. Syd moved robotically as she put the ammo in the second-biggest pocket of her bag. Speedily, she grabbed the shotgun and made sure the suppressor was on. Silence was key here, but she knew she’d need guns to get by. 

She silently thanked her dad for all the hunting trips they’d went on, before remembering that she was still mad and had to push onwards. There wasn’t any time to dawdle. She grabbed the water bottle and sped off to the bathroom, filling it up all the way. She didn’t know how much longer the water would stay fresh, and she cursed as she realized that their water purifying tablets were back in their gun room. After shoving her toothbrush and toothpaste in the bag, she ran back to the gun room and almost smack into her father. 

Carver opened his mouth to speak, but Syd pushed past him. “I’m getting the water purifying tablets and then I’m going in the cellar to grab whatever trail food we have. You need to be ready to make a run for the car when I’m done.”

She was taken aback by how cold she sounded, like her father. Her steely eyes turned soft for a moment, and after she grabbed the tablets, she turned to her dad to say she loved him. That they’d make it. But before she could get the words out of her mouth, a car alarm went off. And it was one they recognized. Syd looked out the window of the gun room, only to see the lights on their truck flashing as someone desperately fumbled with the controls. Her eyes grew cold once again. She heard clattering footsteps as Carver ran for the keys, desperately trying to quiet down the honks of the car. The man was trying to get away, and Syd saw him reach for the stick shift to get it out of park. This would ruin their plan to get away. They’d get _trapped_ here. 

She drew her shotgun and took off the safety. A silent shot went off, shattering the paned window, going clear through the side window of Carver’s truck. The glass broke, and the car thief didn’t even have time to scream as a bullet lodged itself into his head. She closed her eyes and sighed for a second, a small pang of guilt resonating through her chest. The alarm went silent, and Carver didn’t come back upstairs. 

_It was either him or us._ Syd thought to herself, once again trying to calm a racing heart. _Him or us._  
Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was her mournfulness, but she took a break from gathering for a moment to think about what she did, and why she did it.  
She understood why her father hit her, just as she understood why she murdered that man in cold blood.  
Like her father, she would do anything- _anything_ \- for survival.


	2. the garden

From where she stood on the roof, Sydney could see the sun setting on the horizon. The salmon sky was streaked with powder clouds tinted blue. In the distance, the trees were full and lush with vibrant leaves. Every so often, when she was in charge of the greenhouse, she’d take a break from planting and harvesting to admire the limited view she had. Sometimes, she wished that the wall didn't obscure so much of the nature past the parking lot of Howe’s Hardware, but as she squinted in the distance, she saw a small group of walkers approaching. They weren’t a threat, but if she was to go outside and get surrounded by the twenty of them that were walking, she would be as good as dead. This thought brought her back to reality, and she stopped losing herself in the purpling sky. Syd knew that these kinds of dreams of freedom were the kind that would get her killed. If she thought like this when she scavenged areas both near and far, she wouldn’t make it back to base. 

It had been three months since she and her father discovered the fortified store they called “Carver’s Group.” It seemed to fit the community well, but the fact that it was her last name unnerved her a little bit, as if she had expectations to lead this community after her father died. There had been stragglers here and there. After they saw the faint lights of civilization in the distance, they were drawn to it like moths. These were people who had been through hell, doing whatever it took to survive. These kinds of people were the ones Carver wanted. He would just about take anyone into the community, because if they were strong enough to make it this far, they'd be an asset. 

This was where he and his daughter disagreed. While Carver thought that people were assets because of their skills, Syd had the melancholy thought that most of these people were just lucky. And soon enough, their luck would run out. She included herself in that majority. Throughout her entire journey, she was pessimistic. It was necessary to survive. When she did supply runs and ran into other people, it always went awry. People were eager to kill others for food and water. It's human nature to be selfish, after all. 

Syd may have been a skeptic, but her father was an opportunist. If she didn't kill bandits on her trips out of Howe’s, her father would recruit them. But if survivors didn’t accept their offer to live in salvation, Carver would nod at his daughter and in one fell swoop, they would die, and they’d take their supplies. Their screams of betrayal still rang in Syd’s ears. It had been a rough week. Ten of the living were victims of her hand. Usually, Carver would ask for less. But lately, he’d lost even more tolerance for disobeying orders. In exchange for shelter, food on the table, and often, people’s lives, they’d perform manual labor-spanning from gardening to building. He’d strategize their positions. The strong ones would fortify the fences and guard, and nimble ones like Syd herself were in charge of scouting, inventory, and gardening. 

In the past, Syd would go out looking for supplies, even though the store’s shelves were way past full. Typically, these expeditions would take place once or twice a week, whenever her dad felt as though their resources were low, which they never were. There usually weren’t survivors around. Sydney would encounter more dead than the living, people pillaged by fast-talking bandits that never seemed to get it all. She’d had her fair share of encounters with those sorts, and the jagged scars running along her torso and limbs were enough to prove it. She didn’t like to think of the times she almost lost fights, nor did she enjoy facing the consequences of getting injured and failing to pick up much at all. They didn’t have a doctor at base, so many of her wounds were self-treated. Syd could only hope that they didn’t get infected. 

She had learned long ago to keep her guard up, always. In the six months that the world began it’s disposal of the human race, every branch crack and footstep in the woods could be heard by her careful ears. Whenever she had to go out and risk her life like she did, she would turn off the thinking part of her brain and turn robotic, like she did when the young man tried to steal her dad’s truck. Her mind would be clear of all thought, only doing what it took to survive. When she returned to normal though, she would have a lot more to think about. 

Syd knew the noises of the woods like the back of her hand. Whatever didn’t belong stuck out like a sore thumb. If she really wanted to, she could live in those woods for the rest of her life without a problem. The only time that it could be was when she dropped her guard to observe pretty things like the blue afternoon sky, or the blossoming fungus on the trees. That was why Carver would take her with him on business when he wasn’t busy. She _always_ focused when she was with him. Long ago, he had learned that whatever charisma genes he had surpassed his daughter’s. Syd would often put off any survivors with her mechanic mannerisms. The people in Carver’s group that knew her were aware of the fact that she was a good person before everything happened, but whatever she saw when it all started made her into somebody else. 

The two of them would often leave Howe’s early in the morning when the sun began to rise. They’d return at around noon, when the sun was centered in the sky, and the group would expect recruits, supplies, and sometimes both. Carver was a charming man, and it was hard for people to say no to his offer of a safe place to rest and no worry of attacks. They would often be convinced by the shotgun in Syd’s hand, and if they weren’t then at the nod of Carver’s head, she would shoot. 

_Ten people._ She thought. _I’ve killed ten,_ living _people this week._ She leaned on the table where the plants were, hands clenched on the edge of the counter. Whenever Syd was alone in the greenhouse, it gave her time to think. She did such a good job at tending the plants, no one ever bothered her. That particular day had been one of poorer performance than usual. She met her quota, but just barely. She only hoped that her dad didn’t check her progress and assume that she was getting weak again. Syd preferred to keep their communications solely on when they worked together. Carver’s dog of a human, Troy, would be the one relaying messages between the two. 

Syd would often think about the hunting trips she went on with him when she was younger. Even back then, he was swamped with his work as an engineer. She used to be happy to spend weekends with him in the woods, shooting rabbits and deer. Six months and a lifetime later, Syd began to dread their outings. He was no longer a supportive father, but a protective leader.

These years on the road have hardened her. She remembered the beginning, when the panic she felt when she killed that walker with a spork. Syd didn’t even have to think about ending a walkers life anymore. It was _natural_. It was something she just _did._

These years on the road have softened her too. In the beginning, she shot a man dead without thinking twice. Syd could still hear her victims’ screams ringing in her ears from two days prior, the last time her and Carver went “hunting.” 

Despite the fact that Syd and her dad’s relationship was rough around the edges, their community wasn’t. They had full meals three times a day if they wanted to. They even had electricity and running water from time to time. The PA system was almost perfect, minus a few static crackles here and there, and Syd had her own bedroom with an admittedly lumpy mattress and an outlet in the corner behind her dresser that her dad didn’t know she used. Late at night, she’d put one of her headphones in and listen to her music softly, always remembering to put it away when she listened to three songs, before anyone came into her room and saw it. All of the music was old and eclectic, ranging from the Rolling Stones to Rascal Flatts. She always liked her songs to be gritty, like the life she lived for as long as she could remember. The player could be charged every night, with the electricity going like it did. 

The walls were a work in progress, but things were going pretty well. In the time she had been in Howe’s, only four walkers in a country full of millions was impressive. The walls were getting stronger every day, but she noticed how some workers were lazier than others, and would constantly warn her father about how messy the wall was getting. 

_“The wall isn’t up for the aesthetics,”_ he explained, missing the point entirely. _“Now stop wasting my goddamn time and get out of my office. And if ya want to make the walls better, get those scrawny arms to hammering too.”_

That was one of their many disagreements. Syd was losing her mind at the fact that the rope for transporting soil was too weak, and wanted to pick up some strong belaying rope inside the store. When she restrung and reran the rope herself and tested a lift with the heavy dirt, everything had gone well. She went to bed that night proud of herself for making things even _slightly_ better for the lifters and the community. Syd woke up that morning to being yanked out of her bed by her father, who was yelling about how it was a waste of valuable supplies, and that she damn well better replace the stronger rope with the weaker one. When she brought up the fact that every time the rope broke, it was a waste of supplies, and that she did him a damn favor, he gratefully socked her in the nose, breaking it. 

She had to go outside to reverse all of her hard work before she set her nose back in place. People stared at her in both sympathy and scrutiny as blood and mucous poured down her face, but none of them said anything in fear of Carver doing the same. Syd’s steps were staggered, and her gestures were messy. Her eyelashes were caked with blood, and it almost seemed as if she was shot in the center of her face. Everyone was silent and thought the same thing, not daring to speak. As long as she was able to bring in sustenance, they weren’t going to complain. _So what if he smacked them around a little bit? He did the same thing to everyone else._

That same day, everyone heard her yelp in pain as the noble Reggie squeezed the bridge back in place. 

She and Reggie often did little things for each other like that. When he was lifting soil and it landed on his left hand, breaking his pinky finger, Syd made him a makeshift splint from a thick and small branch and fluted grass outside. The little things they did for each other kept them from feeling lonely. She always had a soft spot for the man, and their relationship was as close to friendship as it could get, given the circumstances. Although Carver had recruited quite a few members in the past three months, there weren’t enough for Syd to feel at home. 

There were only three other women in camp, those being Tavia, Vera, and Tisha. Vera and Tisha were simply mindless drones to Carver’s agenda, yet they showed pity when Syd walked around with a broken nose for three weeks. Tavia had always been around for Sydney, but by no means were they friends. She may have taught her things regarding her feminine hygiene, but Tavia was calculating and loyal to Carver. If she had to save only one of the two, she’d jump for Carver in a heartbeat. If Carver himself wasn’t doing the recruiting because he was so busy, Tavia would do it for him. The fact that this older, slower, and clearly less capable woman was more trusted to go out alone than Sydney made her feel an odd bitterness towards her that she never felt before _-jealousy_. Sometimes, she’d look up to Tavia, knowing that she understood relationships better than Syd did. Tavia was the type to fall into the hands of a walker, but Syd was the type to die because of the living. 

The sun dipped below the horizon, and Sydney stopped staring into space as the overhead lights flashed on. In the distance, she could see a little plume of smoke-a campfire. When she and her father went on their supply run tomorrow, she would take them there to check it out. This reminded her that if she wanted to be at her best the next day, she would have to go rest pretty soon. Syd began to close up shop in the greenhouse, for she was the only on on duty up there that night. There was only one guard on post, that being Troy. 

Troy wasn’t a good man, Sydney knew that for sure. She wasn’t sure _what_ he did that made her so distrustful, but the way he carried himself was enough to cause concern. The man would walk with one of two things he believed to be his asset, his gun, and his dick. Troy hadn’t tried anything with her yet, he wouldn’t dare. Not only was Syd a fourteen year-old girl, but she was also his boss’ daughter. But just in case the guard lost all sense of logic and tried making a move with her anyway, she made sure her hunting knife was at the ready. Troy was a good, loyal soldier, but like Tavia, he preferred Bill Carver over everyone else, especially over Sydney. Yet in rare moments, when no one was looking, he would make small favors. He brought her some ice from the icebox when her dad beat her up, and convinced Carver to give her a walkie talkie despite the fact that Syd never really used it. She didn’t know if he was doing it because he wanted to be a nicer guy, or because he was trying to get an even better relationship with Carver, but Syd always remembered those soft moments. 

She still didn’t trust him though. The only person she could ask for help from without consequence was Reggie, which she didn’t do that often. Relying on anyone in this world was a suicide mission. Despite the fact that she lived in what her father so adamantly called a community, she knew if her dad died, the people within the community would die too. Sydney would never do that. She held her own the day she killed her first walker; she’d held her own the day she killed her first human. And she would damn well hold her own when Carver’s group collapsed around her.

Syd went to her small bedroom and locked the door behind her. For one night only, she would allow herself to listen to music all day. It would be a long day tomorrow, and she had a gut feeling that it would be even worse than usual. That night, she fell asleep to the soft and kind voice of Stevie Nicks. It was the first night in a long time where she didn’t have a single nightmare. 

The morning came too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know this chapter was slow, but I wanted a little more background information on Carver's group before introducing the cabin survivors. There isn't a lot of information about them before Season 2 started, and I wanted to fill in some blanks so it'll be easier to write things later. I'm trying to make this as canon as possible, meaning that since they are six months into the events of the walking dead, no 400 Days characters have arrived in the game yet. That's gonna take a little while. The cabin survivors are being introduced in the next chapter!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading, love you! Today, I saw that after only one day of this being up, I got 22 hits and 1 kudos, which is pretty crazy fast for me. Thank you all for your support! It gives me the motivation to write even more.


	3. survivors

The doorknob jiggled, and immediately, Syd stirred. In the middle of the night, her headphone fell out, and in the clouded blackness of slumber, she could here the quiet padding of footsteps and wind whistling through the trees from her thin walls. Tisha and Vera were fooling around again, which was something she wished she could forget the sounds of. 

Swiftly, Syd shoved her MP3 player underneath her mattress and unlocked the door, only to see her very frustrated father on the other side. 

“What did I tell you about locking this door?” Carver asked sternly, looking at his only child with an expression of both distrust and anger. Several weeks ago, Sydney figured out how little faith he had in her. Was she hoarding supplies? Was she with _Troy?_ Perhaps the fact that she’d been skirting around his orders lately put him on edge. Since the apocalypse started, if you could even call it that, he had a low tolerance for disobeying of any sort. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” Syd grasped for an excuse in her head, making sure that while doing that, she maintained eye contact with him. Carver could catch a lie with such expertise, she wished she could learn his ways. “Ever since the walker back in Rogersville, I’ve been on edge.”

Carver’s face softened for a moment. Syd knew that she had him. 

Back in Rogersville, Tennessee, Carver and Sydney had found a beautiful colonial home in the outskirts of the area. They were exhausted from the 20 mile walk they had just made in a day. They only gave the house a cursory scan before crashing for the night. Each of them took a bedroom, and tried to get some rest for another long hike the next day. They had no idea that in Sydney’s bedroom closet, a walker was lurking, waiting for the perfect time to strike. In the middle of the night, when both her and Carver were least expecting it, the walker climbed on a sleeping Sydney. That night, she was too tired to listen to music, so the smelly breath of the walker on her face, and the gruesome groan it made was enough to wake her from her restful slumber. In an instant, she cried out for her dad. She hadn’t kept a weapon nearby, it was in her bag across the room. 

The only thing in her reach was a night lamp. Her throat bubbled, and a guttural squeal escaped her lips as she yanked it over, using the momentum to whack the side of the walker’s head. It was a woman once, slender and attractive. It’s hair had been perfectly coiffed, and the rouge on it’s cheeks was expertly placed. It looked like some sort of destroyed porcelain doll, cracked a little bit. A small chunk of it’s skull was missing, evidently, the hair that was there was missing too, yet the brain was there, clear as day, undamaged and grey. The lamp was too far away, and the walker was crawling closer, so without even thinking about it too much, Sydney sunk her fist into the gap between bone, and slammed it’s head on the ground. Her body was covered in grey matter. It went in her mouth, and the bitter taste of death was hard to forget. She tried to pull her hand out, but it was stuck. It was wet and cold, and she got the chills at the texture of it. Never before had she touched a brain, and she wanted it to stop. 

With another great slam, she crushed the walker into the ground. She wanted it off, but it wasn’t budging. The thing had long since stopped moving, yet it’s brain was like quicksand, the harder she pulled, the more stuck she became. Her heart began to race with panic, and she started to mumble incoherent things. She felt cold and sweaty, her chest constricted tighter and tighter as her vision turned black. Through the haze, Syd scanned her body. No bites. But then her eyes reached the place where her wrist sunk into skull and she panicked once more. She wasn’t bitten, but the sight of her hand in this dead woman’s brain was too much. She wondered where her dad was, if he was okay. If a walker was hiding in his closet too, and if it got to him. 

Carver hadn’t heard her cries for help, only mysterious slams from the room next door. With his knife at the ready, he opened Syd’s door. The bangs had ceased. He had expected to find his daughter dead inside that room, but instead, he saw much worse. He saw the same girl he had to hit on the day she came home from school covered in blood. She was sitting there, frozen in panic, her blue eyes glassy with tears. Her face was twitching, it was the only evidence that she was a human, and not a statue. He saw a mound by her knees and came closer, only to see something he could never forget. On the floor was the most destroyed walker he had ever seen. Its brains coated the floor around them, and around his daughter’s head was a bloody halo speckled like a Pollack painting. 

What stood out to him the most was the fear in her eyes. That fear, although not nearly as potent as it once was, was something that he could still see a little bit of while at Howe’s. Carver could understand fear. Everyone these days had it, including himself. What he didn’t understand, and didn’t tolerate, was cowardice. And Carver knew better than anyone else that his daughter was no coward. She could be stupid, lacked social skills, and was incredibly lazy, but she wasn’t a coward, nor a liability. 

“This community is _safe,_ Sydney.” Carver reminded her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Sydney was taken aback by how civil he was being with her. Perhaps, work was even less stressful for him than usual. She rarely saw him that relaxed. “You need to remember that. The two of us worked our asses off for it to be that way.”

Sometimes, Sydney felt as though Carver forgot her age. Six months ago, she was a freshman in high school, the youngest in her grade. Her birthday fell in late December, and the age cutoff was the day after she was born. Oftentimes, she was the runt, tiny. Kids she knew from school would use her as an armrest, giving her noogies in the hallway when she walked past. It was all in good humor, but at 5’0”, she just thought it was annoying. After everything started, her hormones went into overdrive. A late growth spurt made her turn 5’9” and her foot size nearly doubled. Somehow, she became even ganglier than before, almost malnourished, and it was a pain for her to find clothes and shoes that fit. She hit the gold mine at a Salvation Army 40 miles out from Memphis, a city that her and Carver attempted to explore. It was so overrun by walkers, they didn’t even make it to the border before fleeing. 

The only thing even remotely consistent about her wardrobe was the denim shirt she wore, although it fit her better than before. The rest of it went out in cycles. Fashion didn’t matter to her, but practicality did. She tugged at her denim shirt as her dad gave her a once-over, again making sure she was alright. She had found an old Queen shirt while scavenging three weeks ago, and her dark-washed blue jeans were torn at the knees with age. 

“You cut your hair,” Bill stated, looking at his kin. She ran her hands through it, remembering what she had done after their last scavenging journey. Sydney hadn’t looked in a mirror to see her handiwork, she could only feel the little knots in the back of her head for where she fell asleep on it. 

“Yeah.” Sydney curtly replied. “Yeah I did.”

The silence stretched for a moment longer, neither of them remembered how to interact with one another. They just looked into each other’s eyes. Syd had never met her mother, but she knew that she got her eyes. Her dad’s eyes were dark and small, and Sydney’s were a light blue and too large for her face. From time to time, she wondered who her mother was. The only distinctively different feature she had were her eyes. Other than that, she and him weren’t that different. They had the same pointed jawline and strong features, although Syd’s were decidedly more feminine. One could look at them and say, “That’s a father and daughter.” The blood relatives didn’t say a word to the other, they just observed. 

Carver finally broke the silence. “Something’s come up. You’ll be doing the scavenging alone today.”

Syd’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and Carver noticed that they used to be tensed up to her shoulders. Her face could hold a lie, but her body sure as hell couldn’t. His eyes narrowed for a moment, but he let it slide as he eyed the crooked bump on his daughter’s nose, something that was done with his own hand. She remained silent, aware that her voice would betray her desire to be alone, but she nodded her head in earnest. 

“But you are in no way allowed to talk to anyone. You see someone? You shoot. And if they see you first, get the hell out of there. Y’hear me?” He said sternly, face firm. 

Whatever unease Syd showed in her expression was replaced with determination. “I hear you, Dad. I’m gonna start prepping now.”

Sydney knew damn well that she wasn’t going to follow his orders. She was going to that campfire she saw a bit further west from Howes, and she was going to see _exactly_ what kind of people were living there. Maybe they were good people, following the bright night lights of Howe’s late at night. Perhaps, they were a group of bandits, ready to ransack them and steal everything they had. Either way, she would have to check it out, but she didn’t want to have to kill anyone that day. 

Satisfied with his daughter’s unspoken promise, he left the room, allowing her to get ready. She moved her MP3 player back behind her dresser, plugging it in the outlet. Then, she grabbed the hunting knife and its sheath from underneath her pillow, throwing it on her bed. Snatching her holster from the hook on the door, she clipped it around her waist. 

A small advantage of being Carver’s daughter was that she was allowed to keep her weapons in her bedroom, and not the armory. In her top drawer was her silenced pistol and ammo, and despite the fact that she was out of practice with the particular weapon, she knew it would do her fine. In the back corner of her room, adjacent to her bed, was her trusted silenced shotgun. She dropped it onto her bed after checking if the safety was on, and then she checked her bag. Inside was the right ammo, a few granola bars, a hand-drawn map, and an empty Nalgene. It was enough to take out, and she made sure that she had a water purifying tablet too, just in case she got stranded. Syd wasn’t going to fill her water in Howe’s, it would just weigh her down. There was a freshwater stream close to where she saw the campfire where she could grab water if she was thirsty, and that would work just fine. 

For her scavenging trips, she always packed light. She’d never go too far, and oftentimes, Syd would take ways she knew already. Yet both her map, and her curiosity needed blank spaces filled, and the campfire was around one of those unknown places, for she only mapped to the stream and not further. This place was a bit more of a hike than usual, at around two miles away. It wouldn’t be too much exercise, but she was worried that she’d come back late. She never needed the map of the woods she made, but it was one of those things that she wanted to have ready when the seasons changed and the distinctive leaves fell off the trees. 

She pulled her bag over her shoulders, and sheathed her weapons in the holster, along with her walkie talkie. Syd’s expression turned into one with focus, and her thick eyebrows set into their perpetual downward turn. 

This expression stayed on her face as she left the somewhat secure walls of the hardware store, and she couldn’t remember if anyone said anything before she left. There were a lot more walkers than usual outside, but it wasn’t a number she was too concerned about. If there was a herd outside, she would have coated herself in the guts of a walker, but there was a somewhat manageable number of them, and Vera was keeping watch with a crossbow on the roof. 

The first walker in the lot approached, and Syd easily sank the knife into it’s skull. The blade was freshly sharpened, so she didn’t have to worry about it getting stuck. Each kill was cleaner than the one before it, and after the coast was clear, she turned back to admire her handiwork. Bodies littered the parking spaces from her past excursions to the present. Other than the blood on her hands, which she could rinse in the river, she wasn’t too messy from what she could see. She pulled the walkie talkie from it’s holder to say her goodbyes. 

“Coast is clear out here. I’ll be back in the next six hours, over.” Her voice was casual, as she was used to this kind of activity. A small crackle signified a reply, but she lowered the volume on the walkie to minimize the attention drawn to her. Syd knew the layout of the woods, but not the humans and walkers lurking in it.

Without looking back, she ventured into the woods, stepping over fallen branches as she went. She disallowed her thoughts to interrupt her journey, and turned only her ears and eyes on. Syd was venturing into new territory, and who knew what she would find? She just headed west to see if she could intercept the travelers, or the walkers they became. 

She walked for what felt like hours, but she knew she only covered about two miles. Carefully, she danced around crisp twigs and crunchy leaves, only stopping to smell the faint scent of burning. Her ears twitched at a sound that didn’t belong in the woods or nature. A human voice. 

“H-Hey!” Syd heard in the distance. “We don’t want any trouble!”

It was a woman’s voice. She hadn’t heard an unfamiliar one in a long time. Usually, the women weren’t trouble. In times like these, the men were. She hated saying it, but it was the truth. 

“C’mon, man. We have nothin’ but the clothes on our backs. Y’all don’t need to do this,” a clearly masculine voice called out, trying to remain as calm as possible. This man sounded older, maybe at around her father’s age. His southern lilt was much more prominent than the woman’s. 

Syd peeked from behind the trees, trying to keep quiet. She unslung the silenced shotgun from her back, and hoped that no one heard the rustling that it made. She relaxed as she realized that the situation caused whoever was stealing from the folks enough distraction to forget about their surroundings. 

“Then we’ll just take those,” a menacing voice growled. “And y’know…we haven’t seen a pretty lady like you ‘round for a long time…we may not need your clothes, but you’re gonna strip anyways.”

The crude words made Syd wince, and the gasp of panic the woman released made her realize that she was running out of time to take action. 

“Ma, don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe!” A third man exclaimed. Syd was getting worried about how many people she was seeing. There were four people with their hands in the air. One of them was only standing there with a calculating look on his face, and the other three were fearful. Five bandits were standing at ready, their backs facing her. Each one had a gun, but they weren’t trained on her. 

The first mistake that these bandits had made was that they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. If they were looking behind them, they’d see a skinny girl with a healing nose standing out of cover of the trees, taking aim. If they were listening to these woods, they’d hear an extra set of breaths, the sound of a safety being taken off of a gun and the click of a reload. The thinking man, who had begun growing a stubble on his long face, had heard it, his dark eyes were skimming around. In the instant he found Sydney standing next to a thick elm tree, she fired the first bullet. 

With a nearly silent _pop_ the first hunter was down, the bullet entering the back of his head and not coming out the other side. A good chunk of his scalp was missing, but Sydney didn’t take much time to ruminate, as the bandits were realizing what had happened to the man who wanted to do unspeakable things to the woman kneeling with her arms up. Syd reloaded at top speed, and with three more impeccable gunshots to the head, there was one man remaining. She could already tell he was going to run away, and let him take a few steps into the woods before she shot him down too. She missed his head by accident, shooting a bit further down into his neck, which was just as effective. 

The four survivors were in shock, staring at the gangly girl in the woods who couldn’t be more than eighteen. They slowly dropped their hands and began to stand. Syd took them by surprise by pulling the gun on them next. 

“Are y’all going to be more trouble?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup ma bois ik my grammar is shit aight I don't care tho I'm pushin out these chapters like cray and I'm so tired and I already have my next chapter ready and written so its over 10k words so this is the longest story I've ever written yeeaaa baby!!11!1!! fam Luke is my child I'll do him justice don't worry. lmk if you like syd because I love syd and she's so different from any character I've ever written. this fandom is dead but my love for it aint so yay :)))  
> ilysm thx for reading bye


	4. new recruits

“Whoa!” The thoughtful man, who saw her emerge from the trees first, exclaimed. “No, ma’am. We won’t be any more trouble. We’ll give ya some of what we got, but it sure as hell ain’t much.”  
Sydney contemplated her next choice. She could either kill these people like her father told her to, or she could help them out. “I know you’re lying. Y’all ‘have nothin’ but the clothes on your back. And I’m in no need of those.”  
The group looked at her in confusion as she gave them the up-down once more. They were a motley crew, Syd could say that much. They looked tired, filthy, and hungry as hell, but they _did_ seem capable of work. Howe’s was short a few people to work on the fence and in the greenhouse, and Sydney definitely needed more company. The woman was blonde, with a pair of icy eyes that matched the dark-haired boy beside her. He was wearing a nifty hat that Syd would have wanted in a past life, and his stubble was far more prominent than anyone else in the group. There was a man in an olive green shirt who looked wiser beyond his years, and Syd could tell that he knew his way around a gun. He’d be the one she kept an eye on, because he was definitely stronger than her. The last man had a wide nose and straight eyebrows, and despite the fact that he was trying to stay straight-faced, Syd could see every thought that popped through his head when he blinked. Even at that moment, he seemed a little stuck in his head, blissfully and naively unaware of the world around him. They didn’t have any weapons on them, they were laying by the smoldering campfire nearby. These people were off their guards, and Syd had the upper hand.  
With that in mind, she made her decision. Syd speedily brought her worn, red backpack off her shoulders and dropped her shotgun on the ground in favor of her pistol. She pointed the weapon at the eldest man, as she had the intuition that he was their leader and the group wouldn’t try anything.  
“Don’t do anything stupid, and don’t move a muscle.” Syd warned as she rustled through her organized bag, pulling out four out of the five granola bars. They were her favorite ones, which were nut-free and had chocolate chips. “One of youse come up here and grab these.”  
She tossed them out towards the survivors, keeping her finger near the trigger as the man with the green jacket came forward, snatching up all four. He turned back and passed a bar to each of his people. Syd assumed that he was the leader of the group by how they looked at him, and how he was the first to go to the sustenance. The man returned to his original position in the line-up after he passed the snacks around. None of them said thank you, and none of them even looked at her as they stared at the food in their hands, as if it was a foreign object. Syd didn’t expect these people to have manners, after all. Who _did_ these days? It must’ve been a while since their last meal.  
“I’m Luke,” the man with the readable expressions introduced himself, breaking the heavy silence between them. He hadn’t opened his granola bar yet, but looked tempted as he heard the loud crunching coming from his companions.  
“Okay.” She responded as coldly as she could. It was hard to do. These people didn’t seem so bad, and it was rare for Syd to come across people as young as Luke and his blue-eyed companion, who seemed about his age. “Who’re your friends over here?”  
He looked surprised, as if Syd had taken his bait. She refused to admit that she had, but she was curious about these people. Her hunch told them that they weren’t all that bad. He nodded at the boy his age, who was snorting down his food like a pig, not even taking time to chew. “This charmer right here is Nick,” he joked, but Syd didn’t smile. She only offered an expression that said _“…and?”_ which made him awkwardly continue. Maybe she _hadn’t_ taken his bait quite yet.  
“That’s his ma, Margaret,” he eyed the woman next to Nick, the one who was threatened with unspeakable things. Margaret didn’t look too scared now, though. She was too focused on the food in her hands, and how quickly she could scarf it down. If Syd was in that situation, she’d be much more shaken up. She couldn’t even look at the bandits she had murdered. Her death count for the week was at a record fifteen, and it effected her more than usual. At least these bandits didn’t have it in their minds to scream. That would’ve been too much for Syd to handle. She was focusing on keeping a cool head, so perhaps Margaret was doing the same.  
“And the guy who went to pick up the food is Nick’s uncle, Pete.” Luke continued, not seeing how deep in thought Syd was.  
Snapping out of her reverie, Syd nodded. She lowered the gun and put it in her belt, zipping up her bag. Her shoulders were still visibly tense, as Luke was standing far too close for comfort. She took a step back before gathering her thoughts and opening her mouth to talk. “Luke, I already know you can’t lie for shit, so tell me now-do you vouch for these people?” She picked up her shotgun again, keeping it at the ready. Syd morphed her face up into the most menacing glare she could muster, silently asking him to respond. Well, she wasn’t exactly asking.  
Wide-eyed, Luke nodded. Syd could only imagine how much scarier she looked with a big gun in her hands and an angry expression.  
“I’m gonna need you to say it out loud, kid.” She said firmly, a natural frown etching deeply in her features. Luke seemed surprised at the fact that she called him a kid, given that he had to be at least five years her senior. He was smart to not question it, as Syd’s finger was on the trigger ready to shoot.  
“I can. These are good people-practically my family,” Luke said with a passion in his voice Syd had never heard before. This was a man that wasn’t related to these folks. He must’ve been a good friend of theirs. And he wasn’t lying, Luke’s eyes told her that. This man was loyal, she’d admit it.  
Pete, Nick, and Margaret stopped eating, and dropped the wrappers onto the ground. Syd gave them a look, and they hastily picked the wrappers up, shoving them in their pockets. And then, Syd pulled the trigger. Luke flinched, but realized that he wasn’t hit, nor were his friends. Instead, there was a fresh walker on the forest floor with a gash in it’s neck, laying motionless. It was the bandit that Syd hadn’t shot in the head, and she cursed at herself for being so messy. It always surprised her, how quick walkers turned. The bandit was still oozing red blood, the only giveaway of it being undead were it’s whitened eyes.  
“These gunshots may be silenced, but the walkers can still hear ‘em from a mile away. Follow me,” Syd said firmly, lowering her gun to the ground, putting the safety back on. Nick glared at her, and Syd could already tell they’d be clashing heads.  
“And where the hell will we be goin’?” Nick asked brashly. Syd’s nostrils flared slightly, but she kept calm. Luke elbowed him hard in the ribs to get him to shut up.  
“A couple miles from here I’ve got a little group goin’ on,” she snapped, nodding at the weapons at the campfire, which Margaret and Pete made haste to pick up. They didn’t _look_ much like siblings, but they _acted_ like it. Pete was tall and dark, whereas Margaret was a looker with long blonde hair and bright eyes. “We have a gate around us and food on our shelves. So if ya wanna _not_ starve to death by tomorrow, how about you shut the fuck up and get your ass movin’?”  
“You’re tellin’ me that _you_ run a community? What’re you, kid? Twelve?” Nick challenged her once more. Sydney resisted pointing her gun at him and pulling the trigger. Instead, she remained silent, knowing she had the upper hand. This man could _starve_ without her help. He could get caught by a walker and not have a weapon to depend himself. He could _die_ , just like that.  
Her eyes must have expressed her murderous, angry desires, as Nick shut up after that. Syd quickly scanned the bandits’ dead bodies for extra supplies they had. She picked up a crossbow on one of them and handed it off to Luke. Then, she tossed a gun over to Nick, making sure the safety was back on, and that she threw the gun _hard._ Dying because a gun’s safety was off was a stupid way to go, and even though she didn’t like Nick that much, he looked like he had strong arms for reinforcing walls. And if he was gone, the rest of the group wouldn’t bother to come with her.  
Taking a quick look at the sun in the sky, Syd realized that it was near noon. She was supposed to be back soon, and would have to hustle for her to make it on time. Her father would be pissed enough that she brought four new people into their community against his orders, but he would raise hell if she came back late.  
Syd remembered that her walkie talkie was on her, and she could only hope it was still in range. She turned up its volume and brought it close her lips. “Went out a little farther than usual. Might run a little late, over.” She sighed in relief as she heard a crackle response, but lowered the volume in case it was her dad yelling at her for being irresponsible, in fear that he’d scare off the people she recruited.  
She turned back to Nick, Pete, Luke, and Margaret, nodding at them to move along. She wasn’t sure if they heard it, but there were telltale sounds of walkers in the distance coming from behind them. “We’ve gotta move along now, it ain’t long before those walkers catch up to us.” The four of them complied, and she wondered if she got her leadership skills from Carver. But she knew her thoughts would distract her, and turned mechanic once more, ensuring that she was attentive of the woods once more. She couldn’t afford to get distracted, not with four new people in tow, and countless walkers behind them.  
They tried asking her a few questions at first, out of both curiosity and cluelessness. _Hell,_ they didn’t even know what her name was. But Syd remained vague and quick with her answers, and eventually, the group realized that she was focused on everything _but_ what they were saying. Eventually, they just gave up, knowing that the mysterious girl they were with wasn’t going to give them any answers.  
And when they saw the walkers littering the parking lot, each one more damaged than the next, more questions were raised. But all of their chattering stopped when they saw what Syd had vaguely described before. Right in front of them was a fortress, with people surrounding it.  
_“Put your hands in the air.”_ Syd growled as the entrance to the iron castle opened.  
Nick immediately began to protest. “What the hell? Why should we take orders from a teenaged girl like you?” His voice was filled with annoyance, and she turned around, giving him a glare that stopped him in his tirade.  
_“Because you have ten guns pointed at your heads, and they won’t hesitate to shoot if you look like a threat,”_ she whispered, giving him one more warning glance. Although he wasn’t happy about it, he obliged. Pete, Luke, and Margaret had already complied with Syd’s orders. She pulled out her walkie, turning the volume on in time for her to hear someone ask who they were.  
The five people in the parking lot looked at the figure standing by the gate, someone who somehow stood with more authority than Syd herself, if that was even possible. Much to Syd’s surprise, her father grinned. It was convincing, sure, but Sydney could see the underlying anger in his stance. His gun was at the ready, his shoulders tensed. There Bill Carver was, scrutinizing the group as if they were gum at the bottom of his shoes.  
“Sydney-Kate, honey,” Carver said, a sickly sweet lilt in his voice. Syd’s shoulders tensed up, but she remained silent and calm. “Would you mind tellin’ me who these newcomers are?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait guys I was on a month long trip doing community service out of the country !


	5. whoops

I know it’s been forever. Life just distracts you sometimes. I have more chapters in my notes I haven’t bothered posting. I still draw concept art of Syd and I’ve done a little story boarding. This isn’t over yet. I’m sad that Telltale is gone though. Thanks for all your support!


End file.
